At the Pleasure of the President

by Shayla Black

  “Of course I want you, but we have so many things to think about beyond how good this feels.”

  “Yes, we do. But the decision might have been made for us. I haven’t used a condom.”

  At least she could alleviate that worry. “I’m on birth control.”

  His expression turned dark, and he thrust inside her to the hilt again, as though he couldn’t control his hips…or didn’t want to. “Then we have nothing to worry about.”

  He seemed almost disappointed. She wasn’t going there with him. She skimmed her palms up the sides of his muscle-laden torso, reveling in the way he rippled, in his very vitality. “We have to worry about gossip.”

  He seemed to find that concern incredibly boring, since he devoted all his attention to nibbling her neck. “That’s your job, but I have no intention of making some kind of statement. I also don’t have any intention of sleeping alone anymore. Let them talk. I don’t care. I want you. I’m going to have you.”

  He picked up the pace, getting serious now. He wasn’t letting her go? He wasn’t giving her up?

  To the greedy part of her, that sounded like heaven.

  It was a mistake, and she knew it. How—and why—had he gone from shoving her away at every turn to insisting she stay this close? But when he kissed her again, her thoughts all dissipated. Zack wanted her. Zack needed her.

  She wasn’t about to walk away from him now. He’d let her into his inner circle and she intended to stay there, by his side.

  She held on to him and vowed they would find a way through this mess, maybe even find that future they’d promised themselves before tragedy and politics had intruded. Maybe they could live happily ever after.

  * * * *

  Zack strode through to the kitchen as evening approached. During the afternoon, everyone gathered at Camp David for the weekend congregated to discuss the shitty situation they were in. As the dinner hour drew closer, they’d all agreed that pizza sounded great. Well, everyone except Freddy, who claimed the food or the delivery—or both—could be too easily compromised. As an alternative, he’d offered them all the jerky and some trail mix he’d made. Mad had sent the paranoid bastard a subtle shake of his head to let Freddy know that wasn’t going to fly.

  And all Zack had been able to think about this afternoon was Elizabeth—how gorgeous she looked with her hair spread across his sheets, her blue eyes hot with need as he worked her body from head to toe.

  Fuck, he was getting another erection, while she was off in Lara’s cabin, probably sipping responsibly sourced wine or something. Was she talking about him? Everyone must know things had changed between him and Elizabeth. Sure, he’d been perfectly serious while discussing the conspiracy this afternoon, including the potential danger and fallout, but when they broke to get ready for dinner, he’d kissed her long and lingeringly without a second thought.

  It was his right to kiss his woman. The other men did. Roman didn’t pretend Gus wasn’t his. Gabe didn’t politely keep his hands off Everly. Lara had spent most of the discussion sitting in Connor’s lap. Dax and Holland kept disappearing, and everyone knew what they were doing.

  Still, she’d looked flustered as she’d followed Lara out. Afterward, Roman had tried to corner him, but Gus somehow sensed Zack hadn’t wanted to talk and distracted her fiancé.

  Zack sighed. He was going to have to explain and soon.

  He made his way into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water before he returned the VP’s phone calls. Despite being in over his head with the Russians and having the most stressful job in the world, he felt good. Relaxed. Almost invincible. Apparently enormous amounts of righteously dirty sex could do that for a man.

  He grinned. He’d spent his whole life being circumspect. Unlike the rest of the Perfect Gentlemen, Zack had been thoughtful about dating. He’d had a few girlfriends, but they’d always been the kind his father approved of—ones who wouldn’t distract him too much. If his father was in his right mind now, he would hate Elizabeth. She distracted him all the time.

  Starting any sort of relationship with her was probably a mistake. After all, he still didn’t know what, if any, role she played in this whole Russian mess. But Elizabeth was his mistake to make. Right now, he wasn’t regretting her in the least.

  He’d almost made it to the kitchen when he noticed a lone figure sitting outside. Mad lingered alone, a glass in his hand. It looked like he’d gotten into the Scotch early.

  Things obviously weren’t going for Mad the way he’d imagined or hoped. He hadn’t spent the entire night and much of the morning in bed with his woman. In fact, Sara had barely looked Mad’s way the whole time the group had been gathered this afternoon.

  The damn VP could wait. Instead, Zack pushed out onto the elegantly appointed patio. “You want some company?”

  Mad glanced up, and Zack saw shadows in his eyes. “If you’re looking for the others, Connor is hiding out in Gabe’s cabin while the women are in his. I could go hang out in my room if you need me to.”

  “I wasn’t trying to run you off, though Roman will likely have a fit if he sees us out here in the open.”

  “We’re well-hidden by the patio overhang and all the trees. I doubt an assassin can spot you, no matter how epic his scope. And Thomas won’t let word of my ‘resurrection’ get out. Besides, it’s not as if rumors about that haven’t been flying for months.” Mad gave him a humorless smile. “Rising from the dead will do nothing but enhance my reputation, anyway. Maddox Crawford, the man, the myth, the legend. Maybe when all this is behind us I’ll do a road tour.”

  That was Mad. He covered up his pain with booze and sarcasm. “I take it Sara isn’t happy.”

  “Sara doesn’t want anything to do with me, and how can I blame her? She’s figured out I’m a bad bet. Took her longer than most.” Mad had obviously gone into posturing mode.

  Zack barely managed not to roll his eyes, but he understood. As a kid, Mad’s parents had only ever paid him any attention when he’d acted out. The bad-boy attitude had always been Mad’s fallback position, his safe place. After all, if he never let on that anyone hurt him, how could they possibly know he cared?

  “I think you’re giving up pretty fast. Either you don’t really love her or you’re not as determined as I thought.”

  Mad’s eyes narrowed. “I had a plan, Zack. A good one. She wasn’t supposed to know about any of this until we were past it and I could come completely out of the shadows. I wanted her to know that I fixed this, made the world safer for her and the baby. But you brought her here. Right now, I have nothing to offer her except excuses she doesn’t want to hear.”

  “I couldn’t exactly leave her out there alone.” Zack had known what he was doing when he’d ordered the Secret Service to bring all the women to Camp David. “You think you’re the only one Sara can be used against? Gabe loves his sister. If they want leverage, she’s a good weapon to use against any one of us. She can’t be alone anymore.”

  “She was never alone,” Mad said with a frown. “You think I didn’t have someone watching over her? I hired a firm to keep an eye on her, through Freddy, of course. I never left her unprotected.”

  “Well, if you’d rather have your long-distance bodyguard protect her, then have at it.”

  “It’s too late for that now. She knows everything. That makes it far too unsafe.”

  “Agreed.” He could also think of other ways to handle Sara, ways that might give Mad more time with her. After all, being thrown together had worked for them once before. Sure, Sara had once held Mad off, when they were young. After they’d both grown up, working together had broken down Sara’s reticence and bonded the pair. “Or we could find another situation.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve been thinking about what to do with you.”

  Mad waved off the worry. “It’s fine. I don’t know what I was thinking, coming here. I could have called, but…I guess I chose to be dramatic and it bit me in the ass. I’ll leave wit
h Freddy in the morning. He’s got some friends who can take us. Maybe you could loan us a car. I’m really sick of hiking.”

  Though he was still pissed at Mad, it was a low-level anger that would likely burn off far quicker than the anxiety he would feel knowing Mad was out in the world and unprotected. Zack refused to make the mistake of shoving away someone else he cared about. After all, it hadn’t worked with Liz. “Or I can put you up. Being the president isn’t without its perks, and one of them is an underground bunker where I can stash a couple hundred of my closest friends if need be. Of course, it’s all pretty secret. Sara doesn’t know how many rooms there are. I think I might only be able to loan you one. Trying times and all.”

  Mad stopped, eyes widening. “She wouldn’t be able to leave. She would have to deal with me.”

  “Sometimes it’s all about being patient and waiting out the storm. Unless you’d rather go wherever Freddy has in mind?”

  Mad grabbed his shoulders, fervent gratitude in his eyes. “Freddy was planning on taking me to a guy in Colorado who lives in caves and patrols for aliens on a daily basis. Please. Please take me in. I swear I’ll help the cause. I’ll do almost anything you ask. I would even hand over the Scotch if it hadn’t burned in that fire. You know, in all of this no one has mentioned that Gabe and my sister managed to burn down a perfectly good mansion of mine.”

  Ah, it was good to know he still could surprise Mad. The Scotch he referred to had been a Macallan 1926 that they’d all bid on when it had come up for auction through Sotheby’s. A mystery bidder had slid in at the last minute and snatched it up. And that bastard had kept it hidden for years. “Gabe saved the Scotch. He came out of that fire cradling it like a baby he’d rescued.”

  “My Scotch is alive?” Mad asked hopefully, like the answer might bring light back into the world.

  Zack felt his lips tug up in a ferocious grin. Actions had consequences—as Mad was about to discover. “Was alive and it was delicious, brother. Since you were dearly departed and all, we drank it at Gabe’s bachelor party.”

  Mad’s face fell.

  “Hey,” Zack said. “I’m sorry. I was teasing you, though we did drink it. I would offer to get you another one, but I’m pretty sure that was the last on the market.”

  Mad shook his head. “Actually, I wasn’t upset about the Scotch. I bought it for just that sort of occasion, something big. I’m more upset that I missed Gabe’s bachelor party. I also missed his wedding, Connor’s wedding, and Dax’s wedding—to the right woman. So…basically, I missed everything. That wasn’t how I saw this unfolding.”

  “Sometimes life takes a turn. I assure you I never thought in a million years I would be wondering who I was at this point in my life. Not in an existential way, but in a real, visceral way. I don’t even know my real name.”

  “Does it matter?” Mad asked.

  “Of course it matters.”

  Mad’s head shook. “I’m not going to lie to you. In the beginning I worried you might have known something or that your dad was still in on it, and that was why I hesitated.”

  Frustration welled inside Zack, and he wished Elizabeth was here. Even being able to clap eyes on her would calm him a bit. He wished they’d never gotten out of bed. “Anything my father might have known is gone now. I’ve questioned him, especially about Mother and what happened. He can’t answer and he gets agitated when I mention that she’s dead.”

  “Are we sure he’s not faking the dementia?”

  “Several of the top doctors in the world claim he’s not.” He’d thought about it, watched his father carefully. “I’ve had him under surveillance for months. He wanders around from time to time, but no one’s caught him doing anything truly suspicious.”

  “I’d like to let Freddy watch him. On CCTV tapes at least,” Mad said. “Freddy is surprisingly good with details, and he’s an excellent hacker. I know it’s not protocol, but he should look through your systems, too.”

  “I rarely work on a laptop,” Zack admitted. “You do understand that anything I put down on a computer is subject to the Presidential Records Act of 1978. I prefer to have conversations rather than writing emails or sending notes. And my work cell phone isn’t supposed to be hackable. After all, it only connects to twelve other phones and has its own cell tower.”

  “I’m talking about the systems in the White House. I want to make sure no one is monitoring you,” Mad said.

  It seemed as if his old friend had learned a lot in the last few months. “We’ll work something out. Thomas assures me he runs sweeps from time to time, but it’s good to have fresh eyes. I’m sorry about Kemp. He seemed like a good guy.”

  He hated the fact that a Secret Service agent had been killed watching over him. Matthew Kemp might not have thrown himself in front of a bullet coming Zack’s way, but he’d still been serving the office of the president.

  “He was a good man.” Mad sighed. “And a good friend. I sent him to England, you know. I should have backed him up.” When Zack started to reassure him, Mad held a hand up. “No, you have your guilt, and I have mine. I need it. I need to remember always that this is dangerous and the decisions I make could cost us all.”

  Zack faced the same realization every day. It was something he tried to deal with in private. His friends didn’t need to understand what this job cost him, but it appeared that Mad had learned this truth the hard way. “Keep his memory close and let it fuel you to be better. Kemp died upholding his vow. We have to uphold ours.”

  “That’s the man I know. Thank you for giving me a perfect example.” Mad cocked his head. “I’ve come to the conclusion that I know who you are. The rest is all semantics. You’re Zack Hayes. You’re the best man I know, and I’ve never met anyone I would rather have watch my back. It doesn’t matter how you were born or to who. You are the man you are, and no DNA test is going to change that.”

  He should have picked up a glass because all the tender time he’d spent with Elizabeth couldn’t save him from the way his gut twisted when he thought about the choices he might have to make. “If push comes to shove, I’ll resign rather than give them what they want.”

  “If they’re willing to assassinate you, then that might also give them what they want,” Mad pointed out. “If they can’t bend you to their will, I think they would rather take their chances with VP Shorn.”

  Zack nodded. He was caught in this trap unless he could figure out who was behind the blackmail. Even if he did, if they had the proof of his true identity, why hadn’t they used it? He could answer that question himself. Because it would force a constitutional crisis, and if he didn’t step down immediately, if he fought, it could tie up the office for months—enough time to start the pipeline.

  Still, he had to be very careful. “We need information, and that means identifying exactly who they’ve worked with over the years. We’re going to have to investigate anyone who had close ties to my family.”

  Mad’s expression went grave. “You know that means we have to investigate Joy.”

  Joy. It was still hard to think about her and not feel guilty. She’d died so he could ascend. Or had she sacrificed herself for her true country? She’d been the one to insist on pushing through the rallies those final few days. He and Roman thought they needed to hit the Rust Belt swing states hard, but Joy had insisted they keep to the schedule. And Zack had capitulated. Honestly, at that point he hadn’t cared. He’d wanted the whole thing over so he could go to Paris with Liz and start the life he wanted to live. He’d wanted to be free of forty years’ worth of the chains of his father’s expectations and the wife he’d taken out of duty. If he had cared about winning the election more than he’d cared about Liz, Joy would still be alive.

  “Yes, I know. It will be easier for you to investigate if you’re at the White House,” he said, already mentally working through the problems they would face sneaking Mad and Sara into the tunnels that existed under the presidential residence.

  “We’re doing w
hat now?” Roman sidled up, his brow furrowed. Gabe, Dax, and Connor were with him, each with a beer in hand. “Bringing Mad to the White House?”

  Apparently, they had started the party without him.

  That smooth smile of Mad’s he wore whenever he thought the tides had turned his way broke across his face. “I’m back in the game, baby. The Mad Hatter is taking up residence and kicking ass.”

  “And hopefully groveling at my sister’s feet,” Gabe quipped, sinking into a nearby chair.

  “I do not want to have to watch that,” Connor said with a long sigh. “Reminds me of my own life. Hey, if you want to stay at my place, I’ve got an extra room. It’s secure.”

  Mad’s expression filled with horror. “Your place has tofu.”

  “And an aggressively sexual dog,” Connor agreed. “Lincoln will hump your leg and you won’t even have to grovel for it. He’ll do that for free, and he is fluid with his sexuality. Man, woman, pillow, sofa. He’ll hump anything. We’re working on the problem.”

  “Hard pass.” Mad lost the arrogance. “I only want to be close to Sara. I know she hates me right now, but I can’t not try.”

  “Sara doesn’t have it in her to hate,” Gabe observed. “But she will distance if you give her the chance.”

  Dax tipped his beer Mad’s way. “I learned that the hard way, brother. Don’t take too long. And whatever you do, don’t marry her best friend in a drunken stupor. You will never hear the end of it.”

  “See, no matter what I’ve done in my life, Dax is still the dumbest out of us all,” Mad pointed out. “I don’t want to give Sara more time to put her walls up.”

  “She won’t have much of a chance if she’s locked in a room with you twenty-four seven, investigating my personal nightmare.” Zack liked the notion of playing cupid for Mad. His friend was rarely naïve, but he’d been foolish to think Sara wouldn’t be angry.

  Liz hadn’t been angry. She had grasped that he’d been trying to keep her safe. At the time, he’d truly believed he had to sacrifice his feelings for her. Now? He wasn’t sure if he could let himself love her…or how much he could stop his heart from doing it anyway.